


Shark Tank

by dragonlandsandyaoihands



Series: Mad Blood Stirring [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Lance (Voltron), Bottom Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mafia AU, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Keith (Voltron), Oral Sex, Top Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 14:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15642810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonlandsandyaoihands/pseuds/dragonlandsandyaoihands
Summary: After starting his own small business, Lance ends up in serious debt to a shady organization. Luckily for him, his primary contractor ends up being more interested in more than just Lance's financial assets (and doesn't break his kneecaps either, which is always a big plus).





	Shark Tank

Lance fretted as he checked over the calculations a fourth time. He chewed his lip, flip-flopping between despair and denial. No way he was that much in debt. He was trained for this, had gone to school for this! How could he have failed so spectacularly?  
  
Logically, Lance understood that a lot went in to building a business from the ground up. He just…thought that after earning his CPA and spending years as an accountant he’d be qualified to start his own. His eyes darted over the numerous spreadsheets open before him. It didn’t matter how well organized he was or how comprehensive his monthly financial reports were if all he could report was loss after loss. He’d borrowed the capital to start the company Legendary Defenders from his family and friends, emptying his entire savings into it. His best friend was letting him stay, practically rent free, in a spare room and the entire company was online, to save the expenses of a brick and mortar store front. At the beginning, Lance had been confident that he’d be able to sell enough collector’s edition comic books and figurines to at least pay back his investors and make a living, even if he’d never become a household name. Now, though, he was starting to lose any hope of making any money at all.  
  
For one thing, he’d overlooked the fact that the process of being an accountant was already a full time job. Just keeping track of his business’s financial records, receipts of payment, who needed to be billed, and the suppliers he needed to pay was a doozy. Add that to the customer service he needed to provide when people called to ask where their packages were, it’s been 3 days or does that Riza figure have a small chip on the waist because the images looked like there was a small chip on the waist? Not to mention the fact that Lance was apparently incapable of predicting the future in terms of what his customers would want. It seemed like every month he ordered too many of something and far too few of another, leading to hasty auctions on Ebay and mountains of worthless items piling up in closets. A wave of guilt swept over him. It wasn’t like his friends or family had a lot of money to lend him and he'd promised to pay them back in the near future. Not that anyone would ever mention it, but, as the child with an accounting degree, he was responsible for his parents’ finances and he helped Hunk out too. He knew they could use the money.  
  
He sighed, leaning back in his chair and cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders to work the kinks out. Despite his guilt about paying his loved ones back, he had more pressing matters to attend to. In his desperation, he’d borrowed more money from other, less savory, people. They were perfectly civil about the transaction and the terms, but Lance had gotten the distinct feeling that he’d sorely regret stiffing them. He’d agonized about that decision too, wondering if there was some way to avoid it. He could have scrapped the whole idea, apologized to his family and Hunk, and gone crawling back to his old job. He might have eventually scraped together the money to pay back the loans, but it would have taken many years. He’d just been so _sure_ that he could make it work. That this wasn’t another one of his crazy schemes that ended in failure. Lance kicked the underside of the desk, cursing his own pride. He’d only dug a deeper hole for himself. In a few hours, he was due to meet with the woman who had loaned him money and would have to grovel at her feet, explaining why he couldn’t pay his first installment of the $60,000 loan. He’d dragged his feet long enough, triple and quadruple checking his finances first. He was supposed to fork over ten thousand big ones at this first meeting. After scrounging around for a few weeks and starving himself, Lance managed to have half of that. It would totally empty his checking account; he wouldn’t be able to restock or get any new merchandise for quite some time. Contemplating his rumbling stomach and his finances left Lance feeling vaguely ill.  
  
Heaving himself up, he clumsily pushed in the chair, grabbing his phone, sadly empty wallet, and keys, stuffing them into his pockets. He swung his jacket around himself, hardly needing the warmth, but wanting the security nonetheless. He’d tucked the envelope with the check in it earlier that morning and he tried desperately not to think about having to tell Hunk he couldn’t pay anything at all that month or what he’d do for food. Heck, he didn’t know if he’d even be around to consider those things. Krolia, the woman he’d borrowed the money from, might just do everyone a favor and kill him. Not that he wanted to die, of course. But living hard and Lance’s reckless optimism had backed himself into a corner. What else was new?  
  
He walked out the front door, unconsciously heading towards the driveway to get into his car, only to blink stupidly at the car. Right. He’d sold it. Ridiculously, his eyes burned with tears. He didn’t cry over the high possibility of being severely injured or killed at the hands of a criminal or his personal financial failings, but the loss of his baby, Blue, sent a pang of sadness rippling through his body. His parents had saved for _months_ to buy him that old rattletrap when he went off to college, insisting that since he’d been smart enough to get a full scholarship, they wanted to contribute with a car and money for gas. They’d been so fucking proud of him. He never had the heart to tell them that it wasn’t a merit based scholarship; the college just needed to diversify and he was a brown kid from a bad neighborhood who’d applied. His only saving grace was that the buyer of the car was in the process of moving and wouldn’t need the car for another few weeks. They would text when they had a more exact date, but for all intents and purposes, Blue was no longer his. Swiping at his eyes and snuffling quietly, Lance made his way to the coffee shop, fidgeting non-stop during the ride. He wondered if Krolia was part of the mafia and they’d break his legs for not being able to make his first payment. It wouldn’t make sense to kill him; that was just wishful thinking. No, they would want their money back, so he’d be left alive. Not too bad of a beating either, most likely, since he only had bare minimum health insurance and they lived in America; sending him to the hospital would all but ensure they’d never get any money out of him.  
  
Even if Krolia let him off with a stern warning or something, Lance had no idea what he’d do. The only reason he’d been able to scrape together five thousand was the sale of his car and that he hadn’t sold out of anything, which was both a blessing and a curse. But he couldn’t starve himself or keep eating Hunk’s cooking forever and eventually he would run out of merchandise. It was only a matter of time before his friends decided that he was too much of a burden and kindly started hinting that Lance find his own place. He’s sure his parents would let him move back into his old room, but they were already struggling and didn’t need another mouth to feed. Plus, it still felt too much like admitting defeat.  
  
He parked in a lot nearby and shuffled into the coffee shop, unsure of the protocol. The initial meeting had been over the phone and then in a fancy office downtown. He’d called Krolia and asked if he should come back to the office in the future with payments, but she’d assured him that things didn’t have to be so formal and he could simply come to her favorite coffee shop. The shop, if nothing else, comforted him slightly. It smelled delicious and the two plump women bustling behind the counter had infectious smiles. There were a fair amount of customers, considering that it was three in the afternoon, but the shop was roomy and the booths looked comfy. Lance shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he considered the room. Should he sit down somewhere? Would Krolia just find him? Should he wait for her to come and choose a table? Should he ask the women behind the counter if Krolia had a usual table he ought to wait at? One of them noticed his indecision and called out cheerfully.  
  
“It’s a seat yourself kind of place! You only have to stand here if you’re ordering!”  
  
A few other patrons glanced in his direction and Lance waved awkwardly, sweat prickling at the nape of his neck.  
  
“Y-yeah! Uh, thanks, I’ll just…do that.”  
  
He selected a random booth and sat down, hoping it was the right move. Moments later, a large, dark skinned man with a long braid over one shoulder sat directly across the booth from Lance, hands folded calmly on the table. Lance, who had been nervously twiddling his thumbs and flicking through his phone, jumped slightly. The man didn’t move. Lance cleared his throat.  
  
“I, uh, I’m supposed to meet Krolia?”  
  
“Krolia is busy.”  
  
Lance reminded himself to breathe. He’d been prepared to meet with Krolia, but maybe she was only in charge of the first meeting? He gnawed his lip. Sending one of her cronies might be a good thing. He could just hand over the envelope and leave. No, wait, that might seem like he was purposefully being deceptive. Okay, new plan. Explain the problem, hope that the crony shows sympathy, hand over the money he had. His palms began to sweat. He carefully glanced over the crony in front of him, taking in the placid demeanor, the bulging muscles ill concealed under a thin shirt, and the thick scar over his right eye. Lance’s thumb twitched.  
  
“So, um, I don’t know if you’re, you know, in the know with this, but I, ah, owe ten thousand for this meeting and I don’t exactly…have it.”  
  
One large eyebrow raised. Lance rushed to explain.  
  
“That’s not-okay. It’s not that I don’t _want_ to pay! Not at all! In fact, I do have some of it, see?”  
  
Lance’s voice rose in panic as he fumbled the envelope out of his jacket and dropped it on the floor. He scrambled to lean over and catch it, but the crony held out a hand, signaling Lance to halt. Lance froze, eyes wide in terror. The crony gracefully retrieved the envelope.  
  
“I would ask you to lower your voice, please.”  
  
Lance nodded, happy to be quiet. The crony opened the envelope and examined the check inside, shaking his head slightly. He pulled out a phone and sent a text, his huge fingers slowly pecking out individual letters. Seeing him behave like a technologically incapable adult lessened Lance’s anxiety for a moment. After a few seconds in silence, his phone vibrated and lit up. He blinked slowly and slid over, out of the booth. He turned to loom over Lance, his bulk intimidating.  
  
“Krolia is no longer busy. We will go meet her.”  
  
Lance gulped audibly and just barely managed to get out of the booth without further embarrassment. He followed the crony up to the counter. One of the women had a cup ready to go that the crony carefully carried out. Lance giggled, only a little hysterically, to himself as he walked slightly behind the hulking crony down the street and into an alleyway. He was mentally preparing himself for a beat down when the crony fished out his phone and used it to open a door Lance hadn’t noticed. Inside wasn’t decorated at all like Lance imagined an underground criminal hideout or where he’d thought someone would bring a person to break their legs.  
  
It was a very normal place, aside from its location. Well lit, clean, smelling faintly of lavender, and with a simply metallic theme throughout. Basically, what Lance imagined everywhere in Sweden to look like.  His footsteps echoed throughout the room as he fell into step beside the crony who led them both down a series of twists and turns, deeper within the building which Lance realized was much larger than it appeared from outside. Musing casually about impossible space, Lance hardly noticed when the crony suddenly came to a halt in an office space, standing before a massive, dark wood desk. Lance narrowly avoided a collision.  
  
“Oh lovely, thank you. I’ve been dying for some coffee.”  
  
Krolia materialized from somewhere else in the room, walking around in front and accepting the coffee gratefully from the crony. The accompanying envelope was laid on the desk and she reclined slightly, sitting on the edge of the desk. She sipped on the coffee, smacked her lips, and let out a hum of satisfaction. Lance tried to hold himself back from wringing his hands before her gaze.  
  
“So what’s this I hear that you can’t pay? I thought we’d arranged a pretty generous bargain.”  
  
“Yeah! Yeah, definitely, uh-huh, very generous on your part. Totally understand, but uh-“  
  
The sound of a door opening startled Lance and interrupted his explanation. He turned automatically towards the sound, mouth still open. A man rivaling the crony for buffness strode in, followed closely by someone built more normally. Lance blinked. The second guy was dressed weird, but still _absurdly_ pretty. It was like watching someone cosplay at being part of the Italian mafia during the Depression. He wore a white starched shirt with a popped collar, brown trousers with suspenders of all things, what the hell?, and an obvious gun holstered at his hip. As if he didn’t look bizarre enough, over one shoulder he carried a tailored jacket. While Lance sweated in his own. Shit, even the attractiveness factor couldn’t outweigh the outfit. Lance prepared to question the entire situation when the new buff guy spoke.  
  
“Sorry, Krolia. He insisted.”  
  
“You were supposed to be done with work half an hour ago! We’re going to miss the show at this rate.”  
  
The mafia cosplayer spoke up, clearly annoyed. Lance raised his eyebrows at the impertinent tone directed at Krolia. She didn’t seem like the type to tolerate insubordinate behavior. She gestured in Lance’s direction.  
  
“I’ll finish when I finish. This gentleman wasn’t able to make his payment so now we have to discuss…appropriate reparations.”  
  
The 1930s admirer turned his glare on Lance, who was fidgeting bashfully and not making eye contact. He couldn’t help but notice the anachronistic mullet bounce with the guy’s movement and wondered why he couldn’t at least pick a theme.  
  
“Get on with it then.”  
  
“Y-yeah, like I was saying, I just don’t have more money right now. I know we said ten thousand today, but I emptied my account to give you half in that check, and I really don’t have access to anything else. So…yeah.”  
  
Krolia pursed her lips, delicate eyebrows coming together in an unsettling way. Lance resisted the urge to scuff his shoes along the floor like a naughty child in the principal’s office. He didn’t want to draw any further attention to himself and Krolia looked deep in thought. Mobster Man scoffed and rolled his eyes.  
  
“Look kid,-“  
  
“I’m not a kid! I’m a full grown man!”  
  
“I have nothing else to call you, I don’t know your name!”  
  
“It’s Lance! You could have just asked.”  
  
“I didn’t come here for introductions. Whatever. We’re late and need to leave now so why don’t we do this another time?”  
  
“Keith, I’m booked solid for the next few weeks.”  
  
Krolia chided the Gangster Guy, Keith. Lance couldn’t honestly believe that not only was he  willing to go out in that outfit, but that Krolia would accompany him and hope to retain any kind of dignity. Keith threw his hands up in exasperation.  
  
“Transfer him to me then! I have money. I’ll take care of him, and then you won’t have to worry. I’ll own him.”  
  
Krolia gave him a distrustful look, scrutinizing his expression and responding sharply.  
  
“You offered very quickly…we do not deal in that, no matter how _attractive_ the opportunity might seem.”  
  
Lance wasn’t sure what she implied, but Keith blushed angrily, sneering. She continued pointedly  
  
“Besides, I’d rather have my money now anyway.”  
  
Even Lance could tell that was Keith’s cue to back down. Contrary to expectations, Keith barreled on.  
  
“That’s not what I meant. I wouldn’t-no. He’ll owe me instead. I’m sure we can negotiate something satisfactory for everyone. I just think I can handle this. I’ll buy his debt, plus interest. Everyone wins, you get all your money now and we can maybe still make the movie.”  
  
Krolia surveyed both Keith and Lance critically. After a few seconds of consideration, she began to nod slowly.  
  
“Yes. I understand. I suppose you have signed up for that class so an accountant wouldn’t be the worst…Very well. My conditions are simple: I will require updates when payments are made to you and the both of you will work out your terms now. I will not interfere with whatever you decide; it is your money after all.”  
  
Keith pouted at the pronouncement. Krolia sighed.  
  
“We will catch a later showing at the theater. And if you impress me, perhaps this can become a more regular occurrence.”  
  
Keith accepted the compromise with gravitas. Krolia took her coffee and, with a small wave of acknowledgement to Lance, exited the room along with the crony from earlier. The newer buff man inclined his head respectfully as she left and took up a position standing near the desk, eyes never leaving Lance. Keith strolled around the other side of the desk, ignoring the lavish chair in favor of standing, and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
“My name is Keith Kogane. We need to work out a contract for payment since you apparently couldn’t deal with the previous one.”  
  
Lance bristled defensively.  
  
“Yeah well, based on how suspicious she was, I don’t know if you’re the person I should be answering to. I already went through every financial ‘class’ in business school so maybe I should be the one dictating the payment terms.”  
  
“You’re the one who borrowed money from us,” Keith pointed out calmly. “Which means that the money lender sets the terms. You failed to meet the old ones, what ten thousand a month?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Okay so let’s figure something out. There’s no point in fighting about it because you owe me. And, thanks to your incompetence, I’m probably not going to get to see a movie with her now.”  
  
“Oh so sorry I ruined your date. Isn’t she a little old for you?”  
  
Keith gave him a withering look.  
  
“She’s my _mother._ ”  
  
Lance pursed his lips and nodded. That…made a lot more sense actually. Now that he thought about it, the horrific rat tail that Krolia had trailing down her back was just the kind of awful hairstyle that would be genetic. It was the only possible explanation for Keith’s mullet. Too bad he couldn’t inherit her flattering, but understated fashion sense.  
  
“Fair enough. I’m sorry I made you guys postpone your movie.”  
  
A quip about some gangster movie was on the tip of his tongue, but Lance swallowed it with difficulty. He had some sense of self-preservation. Keith sighed heavily and motioned at the chair in front of the desk, taking the seat behind it himself. He ran a hand through his hair, then laid both hands on the desk, palms down.  
  
“Here’s what I’m thinking. Best case scenario, you pay all of the money with a thousand in interest in ten weeks. I’m guessing from these negotiations though, that that isn’t much of a possibility?”  
  
Lance’s lips thinned and he shook his head once, unwilling to say it aloud.  
  
“Right. Second option: you pay six thousand a month for ten months with a fifteen percent interest rate-“  
  
“Fifteen?! That’s highway robbery!”  
  
Keith snarled at him.  
  
“If you wanted better rates you should have gone to a fucking bank!”  
  
When Lance had nothing to say, Keith continued.  
  
“Alternatively, you could pay six thousand a month for ten months with a five percent interest rate, assuming you’d be willing to do me a few favors.”  
  
Lance’s eyebrows furrowed immediately. Increasingly improbable ideas scrolled through his head of what a mafia kid might consider a ‘favor’. None of them were even remotely palatable.  
  
“What kind of favors we talking here? You want me to show off my special set of skills? Gonna ask me to Liam Neeson someone’s ass?”  
  
Keith blinked slowly, parsing the question.  
  
“I…don’t know. Based on your tone, I doubt we have the same things in mind.”  
  
“Well, look man, depending on what the favors are, sixty-three thousand bucks certainly sounds better than sixty-nine. But I can’t in good conscience agree to terms I don’t have all the info on.”  
  
Keith admitted that it did seem reasonable.  
  
“You a virgin?”  
  
Lance stared at the non sequitur.  
  
“Uh…yeah, I guess so. I’ve never needed this much money before so it’s the first time I’ve borrowed it from a financial institution or, uh, whatever you guys are running exactly. Usually I can just borrow from friends or family, but it’s not usually this much, like I said-“  
  
Keith interrupted him to clarify:  
  
“I meant in terms of sex.”  
  
“O-oh. Well, geez! Getting kind of personal, aren’t we? Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not shy! I am definitely not a sex virgin, all the ladies love me.”  
  
He raised and lowered his eyebrows provocatively, puffing out his chest in pride. There wasn’t much to be proud of in the situation so Lance would take what he could get, thanks very much. As he did, he remembered Krolia’s previously unintelligible words, about discouraging attractive opportunities. He still had no idea what she meant, but she’d emphasized the word attractive and sent a sidelong look at Lance. It gave him ideas. He batted his eyelashes at Keith.  
  
“The boys all love me too. Can’t blame ‘em, really.”  
  
Lance’s hunch proved correct when Keith flushed slightly at Lance’s barely passable flirting. Beefy McMuscles cleared his throat politely. Keith didn’t even glance in his direction.  
  
“One of the favors you’d owe me for the interest rate reduction could be some slap and tickle, if you want?”  
  
“Just a heads up, that phrase meant nothing to me and I am assuming you meant to say sex, due to context clues, but instead said some archaic bullshit.”  
  
Keith gritted his teeth. Big Man started coughing in alarm.  
  
“You obnoxious asshole! Fine! In terms you can understand: if you consent, I am proposing for you to ‘go all Liam Neeson on my ass’!”  
  
Large Fellow choked on his own spit, coughs fast becoming muffled incredulous laughter. Jesus, he needed a vacation.  
  
“I…you know what? We obviously have a grievous communication problem, but let’s put that aside for a minute. The terms would be that my sleeping with you constitutes one or more of the favors I would owe you in lieu of the other ten percent of interest, or rather, six large ones. For the record, you should know that this is not part of normal negotiations or money lending and I am kind of offended.”  
  
Lance paused and scrunched up his face.  
  
“…well, not as offended as I should be, but offended nonetheless! What’s the difference between your offer and prostitution?”  
  
Keith hesitated, thinking hard.  
  
“Nothing?”  
  
Lance threw his hands up indignantly. Keith added on:  
  
“We don’t deal in trafficking, but this isn’t slavery or anything. I’m asking if you consent. If you can’t handle it, we can just figure out other favors that might be easier for you.”  
  
Lance narrowed his eyes at the not-so-subtle challenge. His mind raced with possibilities. Keith didn’t seem so bad; Lance wasn’t petty enough to deny his good looks. And if Lance said no he was fairly sure that Keith would stick to his word and try to think of other favors Lance could do him. But Lance could tell that Keith didn’t have much else in mind and if they couldn’t lay out the terms now, Keith might just take the option off the table. If he ran himself ragged and sales picked up, he could pay with the second option, theoretically. It would be super tight and some months he might fall short, but summer was starting soon and that meant more sales so it could be doable. Probably. That didn’t change the fact that option 3 would be easier in the long run. He might have…lied a little when he said he was offended. The fact of the matter was that Lance felt _flattered_ someone valued sleeping with him at six grand. And that was before Lance had had any opportunity to put the moves on the guy! Hell, he looked like a ragamuffin in his jacket and dirty shoes. Maybe if Keith saw him in nicer clothes Lance could get him to knock down the interest even further…  
  
Huge Quest Guy cleared his throat with intent.  
  
“Sir, permission to speak freely?”  
  
For the first time since they’d entered the room, Keith turned his attention to who Lance strongly suspected to be his bodyguard. The only people who regularly kept bodyguards were big celebrities, rich omegas, and probably mafia people. Krolia hadn’t had one, but it sounded like her son was still in-training. Or maybe he was an omega? Lance tried to be subtle as he leaned forward a little and sniffed. Not that he’d necessarily be able to tell, what with his average sense of awareness and the invention of scent blockers.  
  
“Permission granted.”  
  
“I’m not sure that this is such a good idea. Krolia is unlikely to approve.”  
  
“She said that she wouldn’t get involved in _how_ I chose to deal with him, as long as I don’t go against her wishes and get the money. I’m not doing anything immoral, Shiro.”  
  
Keith scoffed in rebuttal. Lance bit his tongue at Keith’s word choice. How much of a moral compass could a guy in a crime syndicate have? The guard, Shiro, eyed Keith uneasily, but seemed unwilling to comment further. Keith’s head swiveled to face Lance once more.  
  
“Do you need more time to think it over?”  
  
Keith’s growing impatience was evident in his tone.  
  
“Uh, no, I guess I’ll take that option. The sex one. Wait, unless you mean right now? Because I’ve got some things to do today and it’s not like I really have anything on me…”  
  
“Now is hardly the time. Give me your phone number and address. We’ll arrange something more convenient.”  
  
Shiro looked torn between exhaustion and illness. Lance chewed his lip, dutifully reciting the information as Keith entered it into his phone. He couldn’t help but notice, as he stood up to leave, how Keith’s eyes raked over his body heatedly. Lance hoped he was picturing Lance naked. Otherwise, the gaze was a threat assessment and no way Lance came off looking good or threatening. He shakily navigated out of the building, retrieved his car, and drove back to Hunk’s place in a daze. This was it. He officially prostituted himself. To a criminal, no less. He giggled hysterically as he drove. When he’d arrived, he threw himself face down on his bed, bouncing a little. He spread his arms and tried to hug the mattress like a starfish. He pulled out his phone and found a message waiting for him. He blinked. He hadn’t even heard it chime.  
  
**its keith my heat is in a few days so ill come over then**  
  
Lance grimaced. No punctuation even? Fuck this guy, holy shit. He stared for a few more seconds, thanking every deity that Hunk’s place had thick walls and that Lance’s room was on the other side of the condo from Hunk’s room. He’d have to let Hunk know, make it out like it’s some online hookup…then his thoughts backtracked. Heh, he was going to fuck that guy. Oh God. He was going to have sex in exchange for money. What the hell had he gotten himself into?! Okay, he needed to think. Lay out the facts and analyze them, that’s what Pidge did and she’s the smartest person Lance had ever met. The facts were: Lance would save at least six thousand dollars, his fuckbuddy was the son of a high ranking criminal, he was going to have sex with an omega in heat-  
  
**Can I ask you something?**  
  
Lance sent a second text without waiting for either a reply or a chance to reason himself out of asking.  
  
**You know I’m a beta right? So why me? Why not your man in the room with us today?**  
  
Less than a minute later, Lance’s phone goes off.  
  
**hes like a brother to me and i dont like being with alphas id rather a beta**  
  
Lance massaged his temples. Note to self: do NOT text with Keith if ever possible. It did answer his question though, both about what role Shiro was playing and why Keith had chosen Lance of all people. Well, he picked Lance because he preferred betas and his heat was coming up, so, right place right time. Not because of anything Lance had done. But hey! This was Lance’s big opportunity. He would satisfy the crap out of Keith and then he’d be like:  
  
Oh Lance, you’re so amazing and wonderful, please never stop banging me  
  
and Lance would say:  
  
Well, all of this awesome comes at a price you know  
  
and Keith would be so impressed that he’d totally charge him less interest on the loan.  
  
Yeah. That was definitely what was going to happen. Lance felt a boost of confidence. What was he getting all worked up over? This was his _area of expertise._ Sure it’d been awhile since he’d had any practice, but Lance wasn’t worried his skills were rusty. If anything, he wanted to make sure he was adequately prepared. Many idiots made the mistake of assuming that if their partner was an omega they wouldn’t need any lube, but Lance knew better. Just like how he knew that omegas tended to be more sensitive to scented oils and lotions so non-scented, hypo-allergenic was always the way to go with someone you didn’t know well. He bustled around his room, double-checking his stash of massage oil and lubricant, and triple-checking that his condoms were both undamaged and hadn’t expired. Finally satisfied on both accounts, he turned to root through his closet, wondering if he’d saved any of his lingerie. Disappointment lingered in his chest when he discovered he hadn’t and a vague memory of selling off both his heels and his treasured naughty outfits taunted him. Shit. He really needed to figure out the whole self promoting thing or he’d end up with nothing left.  
  
Hoping to turn his self-loathing into productive time, he logged in to his shitty laptop and began posting little ads on social media sites, noting that he did have a few orders that day. By the time Hunk returned home later in the evening, Lance had managed to package and ship all of the figurines for that day, generate some attention for his website, and responded to all of his customers voicemails and emails. Lance stretched and took a break to chat with Hunk and ask about his day. He didn’t know how Hunk managed to work such long hours as a sous chef at a popular restaurant, but Hunk seemed to love it and always brought home tasty leftovers for them to munch on together. Lance tried to casually drop the bombshell of making arrangements to assist an omega in heat, but he should have known better than to think Hunk wouldn’t give him the third degree.  
  
“Who is it?”  
  
“His name is Keith, we met on a dating website.”  
  
“A _dating_ website or a hookup website?”  
  
Lance didn’t have to fake the bashful head scratch.  
  
“More like a hookup one.”  
  
“What if he’s a creep, Lance? Do you even know him? Have you ever met him in real life? I don’t want some creep coming into our place…”  
  
Lance grimaced at the barrage of questions. Of course, Hunk was well within his rights to question Lance about any activities involving a stranger in Hunk’s home, but with every bit of information he dropped, Lance felt more and more guilty for lying to his friend. Not to mention his worry that Hunk would see right through him.  
  
“I actually met him in person today, you know, to make sure he was who he said he was, and not some shady guy in his fifties preying on innocent young folk like moi. He’s pretty direct, definitely knows what he wants, but I didn’t get a creeper vibe from him at all. I honestly think he’s just an omega who isn’t in a committed relationship and he doesn’t want to have to worry about suffering his heat alone or about some alpha who might take advantage of him.”  
  
Hunk nodded in understanding.  
  
“Yeah…I guess he was probably vetting you just as much. I know it’s not politically correct to think so, but I can’t help but be more worried about omegas on hookup sites. Not that I don’t think they’re totally capable or anything! Just, there’s tons of weirdos and heats make you lose control of yourself to some extent. I guess I’m glad he found you and not someone worse.”  
  
“Gee, thanks for the ringing endorsement man.”  
  
Hunk rolled his eyes.  
  
“Ugh, this means I’m going to have to go crash at Pidge’s or have to hear you both going at it for days!”  
  
“Heh, sorry about that. I can always tell him to just keep it down…”  
  
“Lance. I’ve known you for how long? It isn’t Keith who I’m worried about.”  
  
Lance grinned shamelessly. He was able to keep up the player facade to Hunk for the next three days, busying himself with the surprising number of orders coming in and generally being distracted. It worked, up until his phone vibrated with a new text.  
  
**its today when r u free**  
  
A shiver ran up Lance’s spine. His fingers shook a little as he responded.  
  
**Give me an hour. I need to let my roommate know you’re coming today.**  
  
In actuality, Hunk had left for Pidge’s the day before, claiming that heats were ‘unpredictable’ and the guy probably would show up without warning so he wanted to steer clear of the whole thing. But Lance needed the time to calm his racing heart and take a thorough shower. If he wanted to make this all about Keith and his needs, Lance had to be ready for anything. Who knew what the son of a mobster who dressed like a bad stereotype was into? Could be kinky as shit or he might cry about his obvious mommy issues while Lance fucked him into the sheets. Impossible to say, but Lance vastly preferred the former to the latter. He’d studiously spent his down time looking up different types of kinks and the psychology behind them, how to behave in both dominant and submissive roles. (He guessed that Keith would prefer Lance to be submissive just by the attitude.) Ah shit, what if Keith did start crying? What was Lance supposed to do about that? Is there protocol for your sex partner crying when you don’t know them at all? Oh God, Lance did _not_ do enough research for this encounter. He’d just finished rubbing in some sparkly lotion on his silky-smooth legs when he heard someone knocking at the door. He jumped up, narrowly avoiding knocking over the lotion and pulled on his robe.  
  
“Hey there babe, you ready for a…”  
  
Lance had flung open the door, nerves getting the best of him at the last second. He attempted to regain control by leaning casually against the doorframe, head dropped back sexily. His entire display and prepared line were both utterly ruined by his jaw dropping at Keith’s outfit, if it could be called one. He stood outside Lance’s door with his hip cocked, clad in tight ripped pants, an unbuttoned, gaudy Hawaiian shirt, and a chunky black necklace. The boy clearly could not be trusted to choose his own clothes. Keith regarded Lance skeptically. Lance might have been cowed by such a non-response, but he could see the light flush riding high on Keith’s cheeks and the sheen of sweat on his brow. Even with his beta nose, the pheromones assailed him. Mutely, Lance gestured into Hunk’s place and Keith followed gratefully.  
  
“Uh, you can leave your shoes here, it’s a real pain to vacuum this carpet, um my room is over here to the right, around the corner.”  
  
Keith nodded, quietly unlacing his boots and stacking them neatly, before walking after Lance. Once inside Lance’s room, they both stood awkwardly; Keith glanced around and picked at the holes in his jeans while Lance rocked back onto the heels of his feet.  
  
“So…did you ever get to the show?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Keith’s first vocalization was hoarse and he coughed immediately afterward. Lance hurried to clarify.  
  
“The movie with your mom. Did you guys make it?”  
  
Keith’s eyes widened and he blinked confusedly.  
  
“Y-yeah, we did. It was pretty good. I couldn’t tell if she liked it or not…”  
  
For the first time since their meeting, Lance gave Keith a warmly sincere smile, stepping a little closer.  
  
“She did. Because she got to spend time with you.”  
  
Keith stared at Lance like he’d never seen him before and his blush intensified. Keith closed the distance between them and raised a hand, sliding his warm palm beneath Lance’s robe and sliding it down off his shoulder a little.  
  
“It’s-it’s hard for me to think right now. I didn’t mean to just come here and jump you right away, but I can’t-I don’t-“  
  
Lance hummed and laid a finger over Keith’s mouth. Keith’s eyes were heavily lidded and his vision glazed already. Lance could see that Keith had been concentrating hard just to exchange the brief pleasantries they’d had and he felt a pang at the idea of anyone rendered so helpless against their will. Apparently, Keith wasn’t as out of it as Lance thought, because he inhaled sharply and yanked his body away, taking an unsure step back, eyes bright with fury.  
  
“Don’t you _dare_ pity me. I’m still me. I’m not a pathetic creature!”  
  
Lance held his hands up, placatingly. He couldn’t manage to wipe the concern off his face, however, and Keith snarled, reaching around to his belt and whipping out an honest-to-goodness dagger. Lance froze, all pity and concern evaporating. His breath came faster.  
  
“I could kill you.”  
  
If Lance had been an alpha, he might have become so incensed as to start a fight he’d clearly lose. Since he wasn’t, he kept his head, insomuch as he could with icy fear running through his veins.  
  
“You could. But that would be stupid. Stereotypical omega in heat freaks out and kills someone; wouldn’t do much to defy those dumb assumptions. Also, you’d never get your mom’s money from my corpse.”  
  
When Keith seemed to relax, considering his words, Lance decided to push it a little farther.  
  
“And! You wouldn’t get to enjoy my mad skills in bed.”  
  
Keith snorted cutely, and sheathed his dagger, undoing his belt and tossing it aside. Lance noticed how Keith tracked exactly where the belt landed, but with the removal of the knife, Lance was able to relax a bit.  
  
“Man, you could probably ScarJo me with your thighs and snap my neck anyway, but something about knives in particular give me the heebie-jeebies.”  
  
Keith smirked a little and took a hesitant step forward. Lance shrugged a shoulder, pushing the robe further off.  
  
“It doesn’t say much for my self-preservation that I’m not calling the police or, at least, kicking you out of here, but now I’ve got all this adrenaline going and, unfortunately, I’m not put off in the least. So, come hither.”  
  
Lance patted his thigh and beckoned Keith over. He lifted his hands to take Keith’s horrific Hawaiian shirt off, fluttering soft kisses over Keith’s face. Keith made an impatient noise and angled his head so Lance changed trajectory for his lips, taking his time. If Keith’s heats were anything like most omega heats, they had days to indulge. Lance was planning on making the most of their time, Keith was definitely going to get a lot of bang for his buck. (LOL)  
  
Hopeless romantic though he was, even Lance would normally be averse to thinking that Keith’s tongue tasted like candy, and he would have chastised his brain for subjecting him to that cliche nonsense, but he let a hand wander down to the pants riding low on Keith’s hips and felt the outline of a lollipop in his pocket. Why did it have to be sour apple? Lance’s _favorite_ candy flavor just so happened to be what Keith was sucking on? Fuuuuuuuck.  
  
“Keith, can I ask you something weird?”  
  
Keith panted, chasing his mouth and whining angrily as Lance pulled away further, licking the thread of saliva that connecting their lips.  
  
“Wha?”  
  
“Can you eat your lollipop?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I wanna watch you suck it while I suck you.”  
  
Keith’s hips bucked against his own and Lance could feel the clear outline of his hard on through the denim and silk. He looked up at Lance, eyes hooded and teasing.  
  
“Mmm, you sure that’s what you want my mouth on?”  
  
“Yeah. Gonna spoil you rotten, wanna make you feel so good. You’re gonna be my favorite flavor.”  
  
It was so cliche and not even a good line, but Keith moaned a little, trying to grind against Lance, but unable to get purchase on Lance’s slippery robe. Lance wiped the spit from Keith’s lips. He laved kisses down the column of Keith’s throat, hands gently gripping his hips and massaging the curve of his ass.  
  
“Mmm, why don’t we get you a little more comfortable?”  
  
Lance wasn’t strong enough to sweep Keith off of his feet, but he snuck the lollipop from Keith’s pocket and gently pushed him onto Lance’s bed. When he fell, Keith let out the cutest giggle Lance had ever heard and oh boy, that would have to be a thought for maybe _never._ Deftly unbuttoning the jeans, Lance pulled them off slowly, stopping every few tugs to feather open mouthed kisses over Keith’s overheated skin. He paid special attention to the divots of Keith’s hips, sucking a small red mark when he saw Keith’s back arch in pleasure. Soon, Keith was left panting and twitching, bare except for his socks. Lance handed him back the lollipop and Keith stared at it for a second as if he’d forgotten its purpose. Lance swelled up with pride. If the guy was already flustered, boy he was in for a treat. Besides the candy he sucked on with a smoldering gaze, fixated on Lance. Lance smiled a little shakily.  
  
He lifted first one foot, peeling the sock off and discarding it, before settling the foot in his lap and rubbing the arch. He glanced quickly up at Keith to see if he had some kind of squeamishness about feet or anything, but Keith looked just as blissed out as if Lance was rubbing his cock. Damn, but this boy was easy to please. He gave equal treatment to both feet and Keith melted into the sheets, lazily sucking on the lollipop. Lance’s hands stroked up and down his legs, urging them apart. Keith didn’t bother to move, only let his legs remain splayed out and allowed Lance to manipulate his limbs without resistance. He slipped a pillow in the small of Keith’s back to have better access to his ass and hitched the creamy thighs over his shoulders. Nosing down below the coarse hair, Lance tongued the reddened hole, tasting the beginnings of slick. Keith hummed and squeezed Lance’s head slightly between his legs, tensing his stomach to try and get more. Lance petted his legs, not touching him again until Keith relaxed against the pillow again.  
  
He continued the pattern for the better part of 20 minutes, his tongue rasping and plunging into Keith’s increasingly slippery hole when Keith laid calmly and retracting as soon as Keith began to thrash, rutting onto his face. Apparently tiring of the slow pace, Keith viciously yanked Lance’s hair, pulling him up from his hole. Lance whimpered and blinked, having fallen into a zen of licking mindlessly. He was startled to see Keith’s eyes brimming with tears.  
  
“I need more than that, fuck, Lance, please! Please! It _hurts!_ ”  
  
Ah, shit.  
  
Lance slid a few tender fingers apologetically into Keith’s loosened hole, using his other hand to hold onto Keith’s hip and encourage him to roll down into them. He twisted his wrist, pulling out all the stops, forearm flexing as he worked Keith over. Keith squirmed and let out a guttural grunt, letting his eyes fall shut. Lance knew he looked debauched; lips plump and slick smeared obscenely all over the lower half of his face. When Keith whined for more friction, Lance leaned down and slurped up and down his tiny omega shaft, wrinkling his nose at the precum dribbling from the slit. His slick was mostly tasteless, just musky and sort of salty, but this was…not great. Somehow sensing Lance’s displeasure, (or maybe he just saw Lance’s expression), Keith reached down to give Lance the lolly. Lance raised his eyebrows.  
  
“Gonna-ah! Choke on it! Ah! Ah! Harder fuck need more, shit!”  
  
“Shh, relax for me. I’ve got you Keith, try and relax. Don’t worry about the candy, okay? Just give it to me, yeah?”  
  
Keith did his best to obey, trembling erotically as he laid back down, unclenching his fist from the pillow he’d been clutching. Lance accepted the lollypop, swallowing around it and popping it out again audibly. Dammit, he’d never be able to eat sour apple again without remembering Keith. He rubbed it under the head of Keith’s prick, careful not to let it stick uncomfortably against the velvet-soft skin. Lance’s other hand brushed up Keith’s heaving sides, tracing idle calming patterns onto the flushed skin.  
  
“Breathe for me, come on baby, you’re doing so well…”  
  
He bent down and mouthed at the head of Keith’s cock, using his teeth to hold onto the lolly while he lapped and sucked languidly at the red flesh, mixing the tastes of sour apple and Keith’s precum into something dirty and hot. Keith keened, hips caught between rocking down onto his fingers and up into the warm heat of his mouth. Pulling away and catching Keith’s eye, Lance hollowed his cheeks, sucking the lollipop hard just as he stopped fondling Keith’s soft insides and rubbed hard at the small bulge he’d been avoiding. He wasn’t disappointed. Keith’s pretty eyes rolled back into his head and his mouth dropped open, a tiny bit of drool sliding out. He made a sound like a moan and a sigh, cum spurting over his pelvis and abdomen. He pushed his face into the sheets indulgently and Lance pillowed his head on Keith’s thigh, just watching. When Keith finally stopped writhing and focused hazy indigo eyes on Lance again, he looked oddly determined.  
  
“You better not’ve cum already. In about five minutes, I’m gonna need your cock in my ass. Fuck me however slow you want, but try that shit with your fingers again and you’ll regret it.”  
  
Keith’s eyes shifted over to his knife on the floor meaningfully, but somehow, seeing the man get teary eyed and then cum into oblivion in his bed made the threat less effective on Lance. He just smirked and shimmied up Keith’s body, thrusting his hips against Keith’s just to see him gasp. Lance’s voice was dark as tinted glass.  
  
“Don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”  
  
He leaned down to twine his tongue with Keith’s, sharing the last of the lollipop between them as they waited for Keith to catch his breath. It didn’t take very long and Lance made sure to fill Keith until he was sated. Some time later, when they lay together in an exhausted, hedonistic pile, Lance had almost drifted off when Keith said his first coherent words in hours, voice hoarse and deliciously raspy.  
  
“…Lance?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Thanks for asking. Before. About my mom and the movie. Except for Shiro, not a lot of people actually give a crap.”  
  
Lance hesitantly reached over and brushed the hair out of Keith’s sated face, tucking some strands behind his ear. Keith smiled, a little dopey, as his eyes fluttered shut for a brief respite before he’d go back to begging for Lance to fuck his brains out. Lance’s heart irrationally skipped a beat as Keith wiggled onto his side and curled up as a little spoon. Keith may not have had any presence of mind, but Lance gave his heart a stern talking to, even as he obliged Keith’s silent request and became the big spoon.  
  
Over the next few months, Lance was pleased to note that Keith didn’t hesitate to call him up for his future heats. It never hurt to know that you’d rocked someone’s world. More than that, though, were the little heart to hearts that were now as common as Lance being the booty call. Something about sex, or maybe his heats, seemed to make Keith prone to opening up a bit. If he thought about it too hard, Lance felt a combination of guilty for taking advantage of someone who was out of their mind, (no matter what Keith might say, or threaten, Lance knew there was no way Keith would say any of that shit normally), and nervous that Keith might accidentally tell Lance some super mob secret and then he’d have to kill Lance. Luckily, the only thing Keith ever talked about was his own feelings. Small things, about the high expectations he’d grown up with having such a competent woman as a mother, how he wished they’d been able to spend more time together, how he was always stuck in her shadow, how she simultaneously wanted to protect him and not involve him in anything, but had always made it clear that Keith had to follow in her footsteps in the family business. Unluckily, each time Lance had to beat his heart back with an ever louder mantra: This is just business, this is just business, it’s just business, just business, just business-  
  
It was hard though.  
  
He tried to distract himself with his inexplicably increasing sales. The third month of the deal, he’d actually made more than he needed to live and pay Keith, which meant he was able to invest in more stock and shipping supplies. The number of customer emails and calls had skyrocketed and he was no longer lying when he told Hunk that yes, he’d been holed up in his room all day taking care of his store. He regarded everything with suspicion, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely, this would be when he went back to barely living hand to mouth? He charted the fandoms of interest for the previous two months and cautiously bought figurines for them, crossing his fingers that the popularity would continue. Keith asked him periodically about his business, about sales and profit margins, about advertising strategies and how his internet presence was. Lance was surprised how much Keith knew about running a business, but figured it had to do with the classes Krolia had mentioned Keith was taking. Lance pointed out, with some amusement, the first time, that Keith actually took notes about Lance’s answers and Keith scowled at him, blushing a little and mumbling something about it being helpful. He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth though; he’d take advantage of whatever kind fortune smiling on him as long as customers kept buying.  
  
In fact, his luck had been going so well that it wasn’t until the first week of the fourth month that the fact that he was literally and figuratively in bed with criminals really sank in. Yeah, he knew, but he didn’t know. Which sounded stupid, even in his own mind retrospectively. He’d had a pretty standard day, but with the sudden influx of cash, he’d decided to surprise Hunk and buy the groceries for the next few weeks. Hunk always left the grocery list taped to the fridge and he compulsively looked it over before leaving, even though he mostly bought the same things every time. On a whim, Lance added some flour to the cart. It had been awhile since they’d baked a pie, one of the few items Lance could hold his own with, working with Hunk. He pushed the heavy cart down the next aisle, scanning for whipped cream because he was not about to eat pie without it, like a heathen, but it was pretty labor intensive and he didn’t feel like whipping cream. Damn, that could be a great euphemism. Just as he was making a mental note to tease Keith with it, he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder.  
  
He glanced up, having taken a corner a little too widely and bumped into a girl walking the opposite direction. A very pretty girl. His lips quirked.  
  
“Oh man, sorry about that. Guess I should watch where I’m going huh?”  
  
She giggled cutely and angled her body towards him, not bothering to take a step back. Lance’s pulse fluttered. Keith was great and all, but it wasn’t like that would ever go anywhere beyond Lance being in his debt. Just business. His heart ached for someone he could cuddle without a time limit ticking down over his head and fuck, it had been so goddamn long. He smiled widely at the girl and she tucked a chocolate brown strand of hair behind her ear with a flirty look.  
  
“I don’t know, I might not mind running into you again.”  
  
She murmured suggestively. It took every ounce of Lance’s self control to neither shriek excitedly or high five her for the amazing pick-up line she laid down. So casually, too.  Shit, he really needed to up his game; she was on a whole other _level._  
  
“The name’s Lance-“  
  
Just as he was about to respond positively, without appearing desperate, his phone chirped in his pocket. He flinched, taken by surprise. He waved it off, but a second later, it chirped again. She raised an eyebrow, undeterred.  
  
“Oooh, someone’s popular, huh?”  
  
Lance rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, plucking out his phone to scan the message. He didn’t recognize the number when he opened his phone. He frowned and flipped to the message itself. It sent a chill down his spine.  
  
**Kindly refrain from taking her up on her generous offer, Lance.**  
  
**As long as you and Keith have an arrangement, please do not engage in any sexual behavior with others, lest you contract something unsavory.**  
  
Lance’s eyes darted around, searching for someone who might be watching him. Seeing no one out of the ordinary, and realizing that he’d cut himself off and had made the silence supremely uncomfortable, he scuffed his foot against the linoleum floor. Stuttering awkwardly through a quick ‘gotta go’, he quite nearly scurried away from the poor girl, leaving her standing alone and bewildered by the abrupt change. He could have sworn he’d heard her mumble something unflattering as he bravely turned tail and fled, but he was too busy concentrating on scanning the other customers within the shop. Keith had him watched? And not just watched, but had given out Lance’s phone number and told whoever to intervene if, what? Lance got a little too friendly with a stranger? How far would it extend? How much of his behavior was now curtailed?  
  
The impending paranoia made him a little nauseated. He guessed that it made sense to have someone watching him, to make sure he wasn’t ratting out the organization to the police or the FBI or maybe even to another gang. Fine. Honestly, if that was all this was, he might be able to justify the caution to himself, even if it was creepy. But this? Sending him anonymously threatening texts about obviously average interactions? It’s not like that girl was a disguised rival gang member or anything. Not to mention the insult to Lance’s intelligence in thinking that he might not use protection and could pick up an STD, like come on! He may or may not have shoved his credit card too aggressively into the reader when checking out and who can say if he snarled a little at the baffled cashier? He just wanted to get back to the apartment where he could rage in peace. He couldn’t exactly take it out on Keith if he wanted to keep his beautiful face, (also, he owes him), but if that guy expected great sex after this, well, he had another thing coming. Next time, Lance was going to be rough and uncaring, fuck whatever tender nothings Keith might want to open up to him about. He wasn’t that shit’s shrink.  
  
A few days later, his rage had only slightly cooled when Keith texted him again.  
  
**do you have some free time**  
  
**Well it’s not like I have a date or anything, no thanks to you.**  
  
**uh okay**  
  
There was a pause before the next text came in.  
  
**im sorry if i pissed u off somehow u dont have to help w/ this if u dont want to**  
  
Lance sighed explosively. It was pretty obvious that Keith had no idea what Lance was even angry about. The more he thought about it though, the more he realized it made sense; whoever texted him in the market wasn’t Keith and since Lance hadn’t broken any of the rules, there was no reason for his stalker to report back to Keith. Just because tv shows depicted everyone always giving status reports even when nothing happened didn’t mean that was the case here. Keith was, (maybe?), a busy guy. He didn’t need a daily report of Lance’s activities unless Lance was doing something suspicious. Even if he didn’t know the specific incident, Keith had set that rule into place though. It definitely wasn’t time for his next heat, and, considering the timing, it was likely meant as a socially awkward olive branch. Lance drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment longer before caving.  
  
**What is it?**  
  
**im in charge of entertainment and someone has been skimming $ i tried to figure out who but ur better at reading financial stuff so i want ur opinion**  
  
Okay, most assuredly an olive branch. And yeah, fine, _maybe_ asking for Lance’s professional insight was the quickest way to getting his forgiveness, so sue him. All he wanted was a little appreciation! As a creepily protective mobster, Keith wasn’t totally in Lance’s good graces yet, but he may have been well on his way. Especially if he massaged Lance’s ego a little more. It was always nice to know that someone he was with, actual romantic relationship or no, thought of him as more than just a pretty face. Although his face was remarkably pretty.  
  
**Skimming from what exactly? And how? I’ll need some background information on how your business is normally conducted, as well as access to all of the financial records and a list of who keeps the records/could alter them.**  
  
**shit**  
  
Lance waited with bated breath while Keith took for-fucking-ever to gather his thoughts (?) and respond in typical sans-grammar and punctuation manner.  
  
**krolia put me in charge of managing bets coming in and our cut weve been making less from it for a few months and she thinks its suspicious the only people who can get to the place we keep the records is shiro my mom and me**  
  
**I see. Is it possible that not as many people are placing bets or that they’ve been betting less? I guess I don’t know how you calculate your own cut for it. Is it a percentage of their bet or just a flat fee?**  
  
**percentage and it seems like its as many people as normal flashing money and yelling about betting although the number of betting slips doesnt back that up maybe they are betting less but its enough to be noticeable**  
  
That’s true enough. If Krolia wasn’t even in charge of the betting and she’d still noticed, the loss must be pretty significant. Although, if Keith was as new at the whole criminal thing as Lance guessed, Krolia might have been scrutinizing his work more carefully. Either way, it definitely looked bad for Keith to take over a line of business and suddenly be showing losses, skimming or no skimming. Lance bit his lip thoughtfully, outlining possible scenarios in his head.  
  
**What did you mean about the betting slips?**  
  
**we make a slip for each bet per person some of the regulars who always bet havent had slips made when i asked them about it later no one remembers since theyre drunk but they place every week so why wouldnt they bet on their favorites**  
  
Right, so the skimmer, if they even existed, was good. It would look weird for only one person to just stop betting, but taking random slips from different people over a wide time frame made it easy to blame lost receipts or unreliable memories. Honestly, Lance wasn’t convinced a skimmer definitely existed, but something must have tipped of Krolia in the first place.  
  
**How long since you took over?**  
  
**4 months**  
  
**How long since the skimming problem started?**  
  
Lance barely noticed that it took Keith a bit longer to answer the second question. He was occupied with making some notes on his phone.  
  
**4 months**  
  
Lance saw the response and frowned. He waited another minute or two, just to make sure Keith hadn’t just accidentally sent him the same text twice. Keith also didn’t offer any kind of justification for it, which had Lance sighing in relief. Only after he’d sent the text did he realize the implication within it, and worried about Keith’s reaction to the accusation. Thankfully, Keith either wasn’t mad or wasn’t stupid enough to think Lance was accusing him of skimming. Not that he had any high opinions of Keith’s morality, but considering he’d come to Lance about the problem, it sort of eliminated the possibility. But…  
  
**What about Shiro?**  
  
**?**  
  
If Lance’s heart wasn’t plummeting into his stomach over the reveal of Shiro as his top suspect, he might have been proud of Keith for managing a punctuation mark in a text.  
  
**You said he has access to the records. And he would have started working at the same time as you, right?**  
  
Lance noted that there was no hesitation in response time.  
  
**krolia suspects him too but i checked his bank accounts**  
  
**and i trust him**  
  
Lance had guessed that already. Keith hadn’t completely dismissed his hesitation about Shiro though.  
  
Could he have another account? Or some other way of hiding the money?  
  
**its not him**  
  
Lance rubbed his temples frustratedly, casting his phone aside for the moment. It was all well and good to trust your friend, or bodyguard, or whatever, but they weren’t making any headway. He’d have to put his top suspect on the back burner and focus on getting ahold of the financial records.  
  
**Look, anything I’m saying right now is pure speculation. I don’t know the situation and I can’t figure anything out just talking hypothetically with you like this.**  
  
**what am i supposed to do those records are kept under lock and key for a reason and you know it**  
  
**Keith, if you want my help, you need to get me those records. Or get me to them.**  
  
When Keith didn’t respond right away, Lance laid down his trump card.  
  
**You want to prove Shiro isn’t guilty? Then just shut up and trust me.**  
  
Lance pressed send, hardly daring to breathe. Fuck. Had he pushed too hard? Should he have tried to sugarcoat it more? Shit, why couldn’t he back off and mind his own business, he could have still counted this as a favor towards repaying his debt, but _no,_ Lancey-Lance just had to go and dig himself into a deeper hole and get involved, with someone in the mob for fuckssake-  
  
**fine ill come get you at 9**  
  
**wear something you dont mind getting dirty**  
  
What the-? Staunchly ignoring all of the terrifying ideas rearing in his imagination at what the second text could mean, Lance focused on responding affirmatively and contemplating his ceiling, carefully keeping his mind blank for as long as possible.  
  
It wasn’t very long.  
  
When Keith finally arrived, (Lance scoffed. Nine? More like nearly ten. Not exactly a master of punctuality), Lance had managed to find an outfit that said ‘casual and hot enough to pull it off’. Nothing fancy, just an old blue and white shirt that was slightly too small and well-worn jeans. He’d thrown on a cargo jacket at the last minute, not sure where the destination was. Probably inside, since Keith had mentioned the records being stored in a locked room, but it was too late to change since a sleek, black car had rolled up discreetly in front. Huffing nervously, Lance sidled out, grateful for Hunk’s absence. He’d told his roommate that he’d be out late, and the other man hadn’t pushed, but, if he had, Lance had no idea what excuse he could come up with.  
  
The inside of the car was just as slick as the outside, polished interior with butter-soft leather seats. Lance gulped as he leaned in. Lance desperately tried to not sweat or start rambling as he waited for Keith to speak. Should he get in the car? He distracted himself by boggling quietly at Keith’s outfit for the night. He was much fancier than Lance had expected, given the instructions about getting dirty. A long sleeved, pin striped, button down black shirt and matching pants with a slim red tie, the sleeves rolled up to expose strong forearms and fingerless black gloves. To add insult to injury, he didn’t have a jacket of any kind, suggesting that they’d be spending their time indoors and Lance would overheat even more. The only redeeming quality of the ensemble was that Keith had tied back his offensive mullet in an attractive low ponytail. Lance mused on how to suggest that Keith always wear it like that without revealing just how ugly his hair often was.  
  
“We’re taking your car. Shiro is going to follow us and watch our backs. I’ll tell you how to get there.”  
  
Keith exited the car smoothly and Lance fumbled his keys out of his pocket, leading Keith around and to his car. Compared to Shiro’s, Blue was an old crap bucket, but Lance refused to have a negative thought about her, as long as she still belonged to him. Keith gave short, succinct directions and otherwise didn’t speak. Lance mimicked the silence, driving carefully and keeping an eye out for Shiro. When Keith finally directed him to park, Lance peered out after Keith stepped out, curious. One foot extended before Lance took in his surroundings and he immediately recoiled. They were in a pretty sketchy neighborhood, more graffiti and obscene words on the walls than paint. A garish sign advertised Lots of Totally Naked Girls! next door and the few men loitering in front of the door Keith strode towards were enough to assure Lance that he was not tough or manly and maybe Keith could just bring the records to him, while he waited, safely, in the car?  
  
Keith noticed that Lance wasn’t keeping pace and turned around, the hesitation clear on his face. Keith rolled his eyes.  
  
“Come on!”  
  
“I can wait! In the car! Back there…”  
  
Keith caught his shoulder as Lance about-faced and prevented his hasty retreat. He lowered his voice and leaned in close to Lance. If he’d been in a better state of mind, Lance would have appreciated the soft, warm puff of Keith’s breath on his ear.  
  
“I can’t bring the records out. If you want to see them, you need to come in.”  
  
Lance nodded stiffly, refusing to meet Keith’s gaze. Keith clapped him companionably on the shoulder, smirking.  
  
“Just shut up and trust me.”  
  
Lance glared at Keith, but followed him into the skeezy, unmarked building. The bouncers recognized Keith and stood aside for him, barely sparing Lance a look. Lance’s attention quickly shifted to the massive crowd inside. People dressed in fine evening suits and those more casual mingled together; only the area in the very center of the room was empty. Lance stood on his tiptoes to get a better view. Correction: it wasn’t empty, but the only occupants were on the floor. The crowd shifted, their volume suddenly increasing to a dull roar, and gave Lance the brief ability to see. His stomach lurched. The two guys, combatants?, were wrestling on the cement floor, clawing at each other’s faces violently. The ground was spattered with dark stains that Lance strongly suspected were not from food and his suspicions were confirmed when he caught sight of the guy on bottom’s victory move. He managed to get a grip on the other’s hair and smashed his face down, crushing his nose and sending a spray of blood out. He rolled out from underneath, the smush-face guy unmoving. Then, for no reason Lance could discern, he slammed the broken face into the ground a few more times, the other man’s limp body dragged along.  
  
By the time Lance managed to swallow his gorge and look away from the violent scene, Keith was slipping away into the crowd, waved over by some huge man in the corner. Lance yelled after him, trying to thread the needle. Keith hollered over his shoulder for Lance to stay put, he’d find him in a minute. Lance’s nostrils flared in frustration and his head swiveled around, determined to watch something other than what people had gathered for. He decided to scan the crowd instead. He frowned at the llama in the northeast corner, where it stood calmly, surveying both the fight and the crowd. It noticed Lance’s gaze and nodded at him, adjusting its rainbow hat in acknowledgement. Lance awkwardly put up a hand in a half-wave and turned away. As he did so, he almost tripped over a girl who was suddenly very much in his personal space.  
  
“Uh, my bad. You trying to get past?”  
  
The woman leaned back a little, glancing at his face. Her mouth curled into a smile. She made sure Lance could see her checking him out, her gaze slow and smile growing. Lance flushed. She was gorgeous and obviously knew it, flaunting her flat stomach with a blue crop top. She stood up straighter, her chest pushing forward, drawing Lance’s eyes.  
  
“Not so bad at all, handsome.”  
  
Lance stuttered, not sure how to process the situation. On the one hand, Keith would likely return any second and expect Lance to get down to business. And not be flirting with some girl, regardless of how her long blonde braids perfectly accentuated her bright makeup, framing her face softly. At the same time, why shouldn’t he flirt? It was harmless and he knew _very_ clearly just how much Keith owned his ass. Why couldn’t Lance have a little freedom? It was just talking and this time Keith didn’t have some scary spy spying on him. Yeah. Keith had dragged him out to this awful underground fight club and then abandoned him in the middle of a ton of bloodthirsty people who were currently shouting and bemoaning the lack of gore. He clenched his teeth and returned the woman’s smile, his heart pounding.  
  
“So, what brings you here?”  
  
“Eh, this thing doesn’t really do it for me, but it’s a job.”  
  
She shrugged before extending a hand.  
  
“I’m Nyma, by the way. This doesn’t look like your scene either, but I won’t judge. You wanna make a bet? The favorites are up next.”  
  
“Huh? Oh, no!”  
  
Lance shook his head quickly, holding his hands aloft defensively. Then, he noticed her still extended hand and hurriedly took it.  
  
“I mean, I’m Lance. And, uh, no this isn’t my scene. I don’t want to make a bet.”  
  
She grinned with a hint of teasing, but didn’t mention his spazz-mode actions. They stood close to hear each other over the noise of everyone else yelling and talking, maybe closer than normally acceptable between strangers. She let her hand slide up his arm and rest suggestively on his bicep. Lance leaned forward, his breaths coming faster, reminding himself not to actually do anything; they were just talking. A few others turned and addressed her loudly, their breath stinking of alcohol.  
  
“Nyma! I got money I wanna put on The Boulder!”  
  
Nyma rolled her eyes prettily and sighed, retracting her arm.  
  
“Well, I’m sorry to cut this lovely introduction short, but I have to get back to work. The next fight is the last of the night. Why don’t you meet up with me once I’m done accepting these? I’m sure I can find you again.”  
  
Lance grinned roguishly, turning up the charm. He made sure to keep his words casual and vague, despite the feeling that he and Keith would be long gone soon.  
  
“I’d love to talk more. Find me when you’re free.”  
  
He winked and she giggled, turning away to the increasingly impatient would-be bettors. Lance  stretched, cracking his neck as he scanned the crowd again. Shit, still no sign of Keith. Lance furrowed his eyebrows. Someone needed to speak to Keith about something, but if it was taking this long, it must be pretty serious. Lance reconsidered. Probably a lot of serious situations in the mob. Well, he hoped it wouldn’t take too much longer. The next person who approached him was unlikely to be as nice as Nyma. He amused himself by watching her accept money from anyone who stumbled over to her, writing out a slip for both herself and to the bettor. Each time, she paper-clipped her copy of the slip to the money and slipped it inside her collection purse. He didn’t notice Keith until the guy had grabbed Lance’s arm, _hard,_ and had practically started towing Lance away. He tried to tug his arm back, not sure that the crowded interior really warranted such roughness. Keith’s grip remained firm. Lance shouted to make himself heard.  
  
“Hey! Slow down dude! Or at least leggo! I can walk just fine!”  
  
Keith didn’t even spare him a glance until they’d gotten to an inconspicuous door, away from the area where most of the crowd thronged. As soon as Keith’s hand loosened, Lance yanked himself away, rubbing dramatically at his arm and cradling it close to his chest. It hadn’t hurt that much, but it might leave a bruise.  
  
“Seriously. What the fuck?!”  
  
“I left you there for _one second_ and you’ve got a girl hanging off of you!”  
  
Lance reeled back at the ferocity in Keith’s tone. He blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. Keith viciously opened the door, his intimidating glare reminding anyone who glanced their way to mind their own business. Lance followed Keith into the storage room, full of ancient filling cabinets and a rickety desk.  
  
“Here.”  
  
Lance startled when Keith slapped down some thick, heavy notebooks on the desk with a thud, harder than he’d needed to. Jesus, couldn’t Keith calm down a little? Lance hadn’t done anything!  
  
“This is everything going back six months.”  
  
Lance took a deep breath, ignoring the hardly muffled shouts of the crowd outside, the decidedly louder and higher pitched sounds of fighting, and the quiet simmer of Keith’s anger where he paced at the back of the room. Lance let it all drain out of him and blinked, in the zone. He focused on the notebooks before him and opened the first one, neatly catching the receipts that threatened to spill out. With a brisk efficiency Keith hadn’t thought him capable of, Lance began to scan the information, eyes flicking quickly over the numbers and extensive notes, referencing the slips for each bet. He made fast progress, plowing through the notebooks in front of him as he searched for any inconsistencies or strange entries. When his hand touched the bare desk in front of him, he blinked, coming out of his trance with no small amount of dread. He cleared his throat to bring Keith’s attention back to him.  
  
“Keith, I don’t know what to tell you man…”  
  
Lance trailed off hesitantly.  
  
“All of the recorded bets in here have matching receipts. All of the receipts have recorded bets. There aren’t any unexplained recordings, whoever does this is pretty meticulous with their notes. Your expenses haven’t changed since you started, so it isn’t that. It’s obviously less profit than before. That’s what I can see right now. If you can give me awhile, I can make a list of the regulars you talked about before, and anyone else who bet a lot of money in the two months before you got here, to chart their bettings. Maybe someone who came here often or who had a lot of cash has stopped coming?”  
  
Keith grunted uncertainly. He still wouldn’t look at Lance. Without the numbers to distract him, Lance’s anger flared up again. What right did Keith have to judge him? Unless he was standing right there, which he hadn’t been, for all he knew, Lance was just _talking_ to a girl. Granted, with her hand on his arm and leaning a little closer than strictly necessary, but still! The combination of a lack of evidence to support the skimming theory, (and he was beginning to think it had all been a theory; some kind of game that Krolia was playing with him or with her son), Keith’s irrational anger, and his own small sense of guilt roiled in his stomach. The guilt was the worst. He’d done nothing wrong! It was ridiculous that he’d even feel guilty for flirting with a pretty girl. After Keith had brought him to a scary fight club and then left him alone with the bruisers. The frustration burned hot in his veins and he huffed, glancing up for the first time at the monitors above the desk. Security cameras.  
  
“Did you check the security footage?”  
  
“Oh, thanks for that _helpful_ insight. I never would have thought of that!”  
  
Lance bared his teeth, defensive.  
  
“My deepest apologies! I thought you actually wanted my help!”  
  
Keith waved a hand at the notebooks which had been stacked neatly to the side. Lance rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, sitting back in the chair. Keith mumbled to himself, taking up the pacing once more. Fine. Two could play at that game. He could out-ignore this hothead any day. Humphing in disdain, Lance pointedly turned his head, focusing on the security cameras. It was sort of funny to see everyone from a bird’s eye view and he explicitly avoided the screens depicting the ongoing fight, both opponents already bloody. Nyma caught his eye and it wasn’t like Keith could get any _more_ mad at him for dumb reasons, so Lance petulantly watched her. She seemed to be talking to Shiro, who had appeared at some point, and she nodded, reaching into her purse to hand him the betting slips and money. From his unusual vantage point, Lance saw as she thumbed through and handed over most of the thick wad, but not all. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. It was a clever trick; he had to give her credit. Some slight of hand, a little distraction, the push of the crowd, and a good old-fashioned giant lady purse meant that, from where Shiro stood, he was none the wiser. Not only that, but it would be random, meaning that Lance’s previous idea about tracking betting habits of regulars wouldn’t have shown him anything of importance. Damn, but she was good.  
  
The crowd converged on the ring in the next instant, the roars and shouts even startling Keith out of his pacing. Before he could stop himself, Lance noticed that one of the fighters had pinned the other and he guessed that it would all be over soon for the one on the ground. Or, at least, the crowd thought so, if the boos and cheers meant anything. The door thumped loudly and Keith cursed, striding over to open it slightly. The same man Lance saw lead Keith away when they first arrived stood outside, looking slightly sheepish, and indicated that they needed to speak again. Keith clenched his fists and hissed at Lance.  
  
“You done here?”  
  
Lance hummed distractedly in response, unable to muster up the anger he’d felt before, and nodded, heading past Keith and out the door. On the security cameras, he’d seen Nyma wave goodbye to Shiro and head out a different door than he’d come in; probably another parking area outside. Dread coiled in his stomach and his head screamed that this was stupid, he should just tell Keith, he could handle it, why was Lance going to confront her all by himself? Despite the reasonable objections bouncing around his head, his feet carried him through the door he’d seen her go out. He was right; it led out to a dimly lit parking lot, behind the building. Taking a deep breath, he let the heavy door clang shut and stepped out, scanning the area for Nyma’s distinctive silhouette.  
  
“Hey, Lance. I’m so glad you came out here! It’s so hard to talk in there, you know?”  
  
Lance whirled around, surprised that she could sneak up to him in such impressive heels. Another point to Nyma.  
  
“He-ey there…yeah, well it is kinda a ruckus.”  
  
Nyma stepped closer, batting her eyelashes at him. The dread pooling in his gut solidified until he thought he’d throw up all over her attractive face.  
  
“Why don’t you walk me to my car? I’m actually around the front, but I prefer coming out the back. It’s quieter. Better for getting to know someone.”  
  
Her voice dipped low, laden with suggestion. Another Lance would have been only too happy to take advantage, but he came out here with a job to do. Whatever he thought of Keith’s less than savory methods, Lance owed him this favor as part of his payment plan and Lance never took a job lightly. He walked after Nyma’s clicking steps, following her around the side of the building, and steeled himself for the confrontation. They passed the metal, chain link fence separating the lot from the sidewalk in front of the building when Lance realized that all his inner pep talks were for naught.  
  
Quick as a whip, someone jumped out from a nearby car, startling Lance into turning around. In his distraction, Nyma managed to get out some handcuffs, (where the fuck was she keeping them?? Somewhere in the depths of that purse?!), and cuffed Lance to the fence. When he tried to shake himself loose, she reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his keys, jingling them once before tossing them to her partner who caught them deftly.  
  
“What?! No! Blue!”  
  
Nyma smiled apologetically and the other guy knocked Lance smartly on the back of the head. Lance slumped, unconscious, onto the filthy asphalt, face coming near an old cigarette butt. Meanwhile, Keith was quietly losing his mind. After dismissing the hand-wringing lackey of his mother, for a second time no less, he’d looked around, ready to catch Lance’s eye and leave, maybe cool off on the way back and manage to brainstorm more ideas on the skimmer. Instead, he caught Shiro’s icy gaze and turned, just in time to see Lance head out the back door. He’d surged forward, intending to follow, but Shiro had caught him with a warning.  
  
“He went out after Nyma.”  
  
Keith’s blood boiled and he swore to fire her, no matter how much the patrons liked her cute smile and the way she swung her ass when she walked. How fucking _dare_ Lance come here, a place Keith had been loathe to show him, blatantly flirt with an employee on the job, while Lance himself was supposed to be working, and then walk out on Keith?! His temper snapped and he stomped out the front door, hardly knowing what he’d do when he found them together. Instead, he banged out the door just in time to see Nyma slip daintily into the front seat of Lance’s car and leave. Keith yelled in frustration, startling the nearby bouncers. They knew better than to say anything.  
  
Scrubbing a hand briefly through his bangs, Keith hardly paused in his strides over to Shiro’s car. Though he hadn’t seen him park, he knew that Shiro always parked in the same place and he had a key. He floored it, not bothering with stealth as he followed Lance and Nyma. He half expected Lance to go back to his apartment and flaunt his conquest when Keith pulled up. Stupid, stupid! Keith couldn’t believe that he’d thought, for even a second, that Lance might harbor some deeper feelings than just repaying a debt when he helped Keith with his heats. That their talks afterwards or Lance’s occasional lessons in pop culture meant anything more than a man just passing the time. Not that Keith had any real claim on him once that debt was paid. Lance hadn’t had any trouble making his payments since the first time, claiming his store was mysteriously doing much better. It just hadn’t occurred to Keith that Lance would see other people. Why? Could his own aching loneliness have blinded him so much? Was Lance just chafing under their agreement? Shiro had informed him that he’d taken the initiative to warn Lance to make sure to use protection to avoid STDs; something that embarrassingly hadn’t occurred to Keith either. But Shiro wouldn’t have done that without reason. Although it meant that he had Lance watched, something Keith had explicitly not wanted, it turned out to be another situation where Keith was too trusting and Shiro was right.  
  
When the car turned into a small driveway in front of Nyma’s small bungalow, Keith slammed his hand painfully on the steering wheel. He sat, seething, and willed himself to not start destroying Shiro’s beloved car. He had no reason to approach, even to have followed them this far. It was none of his business. Lance did what he asked and looked through the records. Their meeting ended. And yet…Keith found that he couldn’t move. Riveted to the seat, radiating anger and betrayal, he breathed heavily. Then he squinted.  
  
Nyma gracefully exited the car, chattering away, but, surprisingly, she didn’t hold Keith’s attention. He was focused on the person climbing out of the driver’s seat. The person who _definitely_ wasn’t Lance. Keith’s eyes bugged out of his head. Could Lance be about to have a threesome with Nyma and some stranger? A strangled gasp out outrage escaped his throat, but Nyma and the man locked the car and headed towards the door without a backwards glance. A heartbeat later, Keith realized what had happened and his face colored with shame. Shit! He’d been so caught up in his stupid fucking unnecessary jealousy that he’d failed to notice that Lance hadn’t done anything wrong? Then he did smack his head into the steering wheel, whacking the dashboard a few times for good measure. He fumbled out his phone, calling Shiro and apprising him of the situation.  
  
Shiro had the good grace to neither mention Keith’s glaring blunder in letting his emotions get the better of him, nor question him theoretically following Lance back to Nyma’s place. Like the best bodyguard in the world that he was, (Keith made a note to get him a raise ASAP), Shiro simply acknowledged the problem and assured Keith that he would arrive soon to help him clean up, regardless of the fact that Keith had taken his car. A few minutes later, he got a follow up text that Shiro had found Lance and, other than being knocked unconscious and tied up in the parking lot, no harm had befallen him. Apparently, some trustworthy grunt would watch over Lance and ensure that he stayed unharmed and Shiro was on his way.  
  
The previous anger from Lance’s perceived betrayal faded away, leaving Keith with an icy call for vengeance in its stead. Shiro hadn’t been surprised about Nyma. And Keith wasn’t an idiot, despite all the evidence to the contrary. She worked as a collector in their club. He may not know the how, but if Lance had been so fixated on her that he’d confronted her, still trying to help Keith even after he’d been so awful to him, well…it just meant that Lance had figured it out. When Shiro pulled up in a vehicle he’d never seen before, smiling grimly at Keith and surreptitiously checking his car for any dings, Keith decided not to sweat the details.  
  
Lance groaned and tried to roll over. When he wasn’t able to, he slit one eye open, groggily evaluating his surroundings. What the? Memories of getting handcuffed in a disgusting parking lot and Nyma getting away with some lame fuck and his baby, Blue poured back in suddenly and Lance groaned again, louder. Someone cleared their throat nearby to attract his attention and Lance’s head snapped back painfully, eyes wide. A burly, intimidating man loomed over him. Lance swallowed, a billion excuses vying to trip off of his tongue. Before he was able to stutter himself through something, the man abruptly brandished a phone. Lance blinked intelligently. The man crouched down, set the phone down near Lance’s face, and stood up again, walking a polite distance away.  
  
“Uh, hello? Is this Nyma? Wait! Are you making a ransom demand? Because I barely have enough for inventory and my debts and considering you’ve been taking money from Keith and his mom, there’s no way they’ll pay you anything for me, so really this is a stupid idea. Blue is my only valuable thing and you _stole her already!_ ”  
  
“Lance!”  
  
The voice barking at him through the phone was assuredly not Nyma’s. Lance colored in humiliation and relief.  
  
“Oh man, am I glad to hear from you!”  
  
“Hey, Lance. I got your car back.”  
  
“Thank you, Keith. Now, can you come uncuff me?”  
  
“What’s that? I uh, you’re cutting out, I can’t-I can’t hear you.”  
  
“Oh come on!”  
  
As Keith remained silent, Lance panicked ever so slightly.  
  
“Keith? Buddy?! My man?!”  
  
“Yeah yeah. I’m still here.”  
  
“Don’t do that! I’m face down and ass up outside of a sketchy fight club! This is not my favored terrain!”  
  
“Calm down. Kolivan is making sure you’re left alone and I’ll be back soon.”  
  
“Don’t tell me to calm down! Anyway, how did you get the car back from Nyma? Also, she was the skimmer, in case you missed that before.”  
  
“Heh. I figured that out. Let’s just say Shiro and I took out the trash and you’ll never have to worry about that nasty bitch again.”  
  
Lance spent a moment debating whether that meant Keith had killed her, what had happened to the other guy she’d been with, if Lance was legally liable for her maybe-murder, and if it said something about him that he didn’t really care about any of it. He didn’t have time to comment further though before Keith continued, his tone begrudging.  
  
“You, uh, really had me going there.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Nyma. I thought, I mean, that you were actually flirting with her. It’s pretty obvious that you saw her as suspicious; I guess I didn’t see it because I was so used to having her around that I didn’t look. Mom was right about outside eyes. But, just, your instincts for danger and your ability to take care of yourself definitely leave something to be desired, but…I’m impressed.”  
  
Lance coughed and tried to hmm appreciatively, not missing how he’d narrowly avoided being called out for flirting. And later, when Keith knelt to undo the cuffs digging painfully into Lance’s sore wrists and clasped his hand to pull him up to stand, Lance didn’t imagine the slight blush on Keith’s cheeks, nor his shy smile when Lance didn’t let go immediately of his hand. Lance looked away, laughing nervously, thoughts blaring:  
  
Oh yeah, I’m _fucked_.

**Author's Note:**

> There is nowhere in the story to mention it, but just in case anyone was wondering why Lance’s sales suddenly took off, it was because Shiro knew that tons of people in their organization collect figurines of their favorite characters and spread the word that Lance was selling. And maybe if you wanted to get in good with Krolia’s notoriously prickly son, you should buy some. 
> 
> Also, thank you, as always, to my brother who hasn't even read or beta'd this fic yet so any mistakes are all my own. For the first time, the title is not a Shakespeare quote.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please come let me know at: dragonlandsandyaoihands.tumblr.com
> 
> If you're interested in reading more of my writing early access or drabbles that aren't posted on AO3 at all, come check me out at:  
> dragonlandsandyaoihands.tumblr.com for more information in my bio.


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